Vanessa Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

Oi, you donkey! What’s this “whore” nonsense? You mean *water*, you bloody idiot sandwich! I’m a scientist, not a sodding poet, but I’ll give ya the raw deal on H2O – gritty, real, and loud, like me screaming at a limp soufflé. Water’s the damn king of life, yeah? No water, no you, ya muppet! Covers 71% of this rock we call Earth – fact! Blows my mind every time. Reminds me of *The Pianist* – “Look around you, there’s water!” – nah, that’s not in it, but it fits, don’t it? Polanski’s masterpiece, that film, got me sobbing like a chopped onion. Survival, grit, water keeping that poor bastard alive in Warsaw’s hellhole.

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

Oil extends losses; Russia to fulfil supply contracts